Chapter Five: Becoming Fel
Tranith Argan: Book 3
The four travelers were following the Marske river when they heard voices ahead.
They kept walking, though more cautiously now. They were growing tired of the walk as well, with Kara noting the blisters she had developed but not taken full notice of until in the water. The life of a queen had caused her to become soft, she said, and now she was paying for it. So she was glad of their slower pace and looked forward to their pauses.
As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to set in the sky, they were coming to a curve in the river, and they saw several felled trees lying in their path along the riverbank. The trees had not fallen naturally, but had been clearly hewn by an ax. They stopped to talk about this new development.
“We must be near their village,” said Alessa, “or some village. These trees have been but recently cut.”
“Cut and left to rot?” asked Dolen.
“No,” said Alessa slowly, “I think they will be back. Perhaps they cut first and retrieve later –”
As the elf spoke, her ears picked up a noise and she abruptly halted what she was saying and looked around in concern. At that moment, they all heard the crunch of twigs and leaf as before them appeared a child, a boy of about ten, who had walked out of the forest with a smile on his face as he approached.
No one knew what to say at their discovery, it was so sudden.
“Good day,” said the boy, as he continued to smile and draw closer.
“Good day,” said Felanar hesitantly. He didn’t know how to explain their presence and waited to hear what the boy would say.
The boy walked up to Felanar and raised his palm in greeting.
“Welcome to our village,” he said, looking up. “Are you from down river?”
“Yes,” said Felanar, “that is where we are from. Where is your village? Is it near?”
“Oh yes,” said the boy, “it’s just around that bend and a little way down. We are here to gather wood for a new boat, my father and I.” He spoke with pride.
“Where is your father?” asked Felanar.
“He went to get more tools. He forgot one, as usual.” The boy grinned as he gave up this family secret. He looked at Kara and Dolen, and then catching Alessa’s eyes he startled.
“You’re an elf!”
Alessa nodded and said, “I am an elf, and I am pleased to meet you, young master.”
The boy grinned widely at this and started to laugh.
“I’ve never seen an elf before, but my father said you can see a light in their eyes, and you have that!”
“Would you like to see it more closely?” Alessa asked, and then stepped forward to kneel before the boy so she could make eye contact at his level. He stared deep into her eyes with amazement, and then laughed suddenly when she winked at him.
“My father says elves are good people,” the boy said earnestly, “but not everyone thinks so in the village.”
“What is your name?” asked Felanar, who was beginning to wonder how the boy’s father would react when he returned and saw his boy talking to four strangers. He wondered how much outside contact any of these villagers had.
“Dral,” the boy replied. “What’s yours?”
“Fel—“ began Felanar, and then stopped with a sudden sense of misgiving about revealing his identity in this land. No telling what the people here knew of Argan or its people, but it might be smart, he thought, to keep his identity a secret if possible.
“Nice to meet you, Fel,” said the boy.
Felanar relaxed at this simple solution presenting itself, and then turned as he heard the sound of someone approaching. Stepping out of the trees was a man looking puzzled. Like the boy, he had dark blond hair, and he was dressed in work clothes. He carried a long knife in his right hand, but he was not holding it in a defensive or an attacking manner but simply as one would carry a tool.
“Are you bothering these people?” he called out to the boy.
“No, father,” Dral quickly answered, “they are friendly. This is Fel.” He pointed at Felanar.
“Greetings to you, Fel,” said Dral’s father as he raised his palm the way his boy had done previously. “My name is Grel. Are you from down river?”
“Yes,” said Felanar, “as I told your well-behaved son, we are traveling upriver, and he was telling us your village is nearby.”
“Are you journeying far?” Dral’s father still look puzzled, though not alarmed, though he was certainly wondering about the different appearances of these four travelers. Not yet having noticed Alessa’s eyes, he was unaware of her elven presence, but he had noticed Dolen and realized he must be looking at a dwarf. This was unusual enough for him to keep glancing over at the dwarf as he spoke with Felanar.
“Yes,” said Felanar, “we have a long way yet to go. We are journeying to visit relatives of mine and my sister’s.” He gestured toward Kara who smiled at the man. “I see you have noticed my friend, the dwarf,” he continued, noticing the man’s glances. “This is Dolen, an explorer among the dwarves, and someone who has agreed to journey with us on our way so as to learn of these lands.”
Dolen bowed in greeting, going along with Felanar’s plan.
“You are welcome to stop in our village and take refreshment for your journey,” said the man to Dolen. “We have never seen a dwarf in these lands, but we have heard tales of the dwarves of the eastern lands. The village would be pleased to meet one who has stepped out of the old tales. You would all be welcome.”
Felanar looked at the other three, each of whom glanced at him as if to indicate they did not know what they should do next. Felanar didn’t know either. It would be ideal if they could avoid news of their presence. He wasn’t sure how well or how quickly news traveled among these isolated villages, but if they had never seen a dwarf before, and if views on elves were mixed, it might cause a stir among the villagers. Felanar turned back to the man who was looking at him expectantly.
“Your offer is kind, and I would enjoy seeing your village, but we have a long way to go yet and we have a schedule to hold to if our journey is to be no longer than necessary. We are expected at our journey’s end, and they will worry if we are late.”
“Then we will not keep you,” said the man, “but you need to eat, so you might as well eat with us tonight. We won’t keep you long. Come on, I’ll lead you. It’s not far.”
Not knowing what else to do, Felanar began to walk and the others followed. In only a few minutes, Dolen was being pestered with questions by Grel, and Dral was listening intently at the dwarf’s answers. Using this opportunity, Kara held Felanar back a few steps and began whispering urgently.
“What are you’re doing?” she asked, glancing ahead to make sure she was not being overheard.
“What could I do?” whispered Felanar back. “I tried to avoid this and he insisted otherwise.”
“Make an excuse,” she whispered, “find a reason why we cannot go to the village.”
Alessa joined them and quietly said to Kara, “The news of our presence will go to the village even if we do not, so if our goal is avoidance of detection we have already failed. Consider the positive aspects of this development. We are in a strange land without aid or friends. This Grel seems an honest man, and is quite friendly. It might do us good to have friends as we make our way. In particular, they might give us guidance on the best way to cross the Marske, and perhaps even the plain beyond. Or perhaps not that, for we have our story to maintain and they would wonder why we need to cross the plain.”
“It is a mistake,” Kara whispered back, “and we lead ourselves into potential danger.”
“We shall see,” said Felanar.
Grel turned back to speak with Alessa. “I did not notice it before, but Dolen tells me you are an elf and now I see it for myself. What wonders there are today!”
Alessa bowed kindly toward Grel.
“I have never seen an elf in these parts,” said Grel with amazement. “I am surprised you dare show yourself openly. But I am glad to see you, and you will be welcome in my village, I can tell you that.” He turned forward again to answer a question from his son.
“Why did he say that?” asked Felanar.
“I truly cannot say,” said the elf slowly, looking puzzled. “I begin to wish I asked my father more questions about the world at large. I find I have spent all my time and interest in Elaria, and there is much about the outside world that I do not know.”
“Why would men look down on elves?” Felanar mused.
“Why would anyone, other than our enemies?” said Alessa.
They moved quickly along a forest path that was gradually opening up and becoming smoother. It was clear that they were getting near the village and on a road well-traveled. Suddenly movement and sound enveloped them. Alessa yelled, angrily cursing herself for being so self-absorbed that she missed the earlier warnings of sound that only she could hear. For crashing through the forest came a band of saarks who stopped momentarily in surprise at seeing this group of travelers, and then yelled out and rushed forward waving their swords. Felanar’s group could not reach their weapons before thick, scaly arms clamped down on their arms.
“Quickly! The ropes,” cried one of the saarks grabbing Felanar’s arms. “Tie up these filthy creatures and take their weapons!”
“Ugh! An elf!” cried another saark, as he caught sight of Alessa’s face.
“Kill the elf!” a third saark yelled, and licked his lips as he said it.
Felanar and Dolen simultaneously slipped free with great effort and rushed toward Alessa’s defense, but it was not needed. The lead saark had already held up his scaly brown right arm and said, “The elf lives, we can find a use for her. Ransom if nothing else.”
Several armored saarks regained control of Felanar and Dolen, and all of the travelers, along with Grel and young Dral, were soon bound by rope so that their upper bodies were immobilized.
The lead saark walked up and down the line of prisoners, licking his lips and staring at them with red-rimmed eyes through the straggle of oily dark hair that hung over his face. He made chuckling sounds and showed his fangs to Kara as he fingered her blond hair.
“Filthy creatures,” he said, and spat on the ground at her feet. He walked over to Alessa, who glared back at him. He slapped her defenseless face hard, causing her to gasp at the blow. “Worth nothing more than to be prisoners. I hate your kind,” he said to her.
He barked an order and the ropes round each prisoner were pulled forward by a saark and they all began to march down the path and into the forest. They picked up speed and soon were jogging. Felanar could see about twenty saarks in all, each wearing armor and all carrying knives and swords. He felt sick at the memory of their smell, the memory he had carried from being a prisoner on a saark ship. He wondered what was to happen to them now, and was it the same fate as when he was captured previously? Would they want them to become chained prisoners on one of their ships? Did these saarks even realize who they were?
“What do you want with us?” Felanar yelled toward the lead saark. “We are simple farmers and mean you no harm.”
The saarks laughed raucously but said nothing.
“Where are you taking us?” Felanar asked.
Grel, jogging next to Felanar, turned and said sadly, “To the mountains.”
Felanar gasped, “This has happened before in these parts?”
Grel nodded and said, “All too often, whenever they need new slaves.”
“For their ships?” asked Felanar.
“No,” said Grel, “for their mines.”
Felanar shuddered, looked ahead in the distance at the top of the first of the Red Mountains, and was forcibly pulled toward slavery.